The Final Cut
by HB's Favourite
Summary: Constance is visited by an old acquiantaince...


_Hi folks - this one's in answer to Blondie47's Drabble Challenge._

_This is longer than the average drabble, but I will keep it as short as poss. The theme here is "Unexpected Visitors". Some might say it should be in the crossover section... It's set at the beginning of HP and the HBP. _

_(The title is taken from the "House of Cards" series – political drama, and bloody good stuff even if you don't like politics (which I don't).)_

**The Final Cut**

'There's someone here to see you.'

Imogen's voice drifted across the classroom in a whisper loud enough to draw the girls' attention. As hands hovered above cauldrons, a qualm plucked at Constance's stomach. She hadn't invited anyone. She hadn't expected anyone. And the searching look in Imogen's eyes unsettled her.

Brushing her apron absentmindedly, she stepped towards the door.

'Need I ask you to continue with your work _in_ _silence_,' she addressed the class before clicking the door shut behind her and turning her attention to the gym mistress.

'Who?'

'She wouldn't say,' shrugged Imogen. 'Said it was urgent, though. Well dressed. Too much perfume.' Imogen had already turned back in the direction of the staffroom as an image formed in Constance's mind. 'I left her in Miss Cackle's office.'

Well dressed. Too much perfume. Of course.

x

'Narcissa.' Constance's greeting was cold as she avoided the manicured hand that was extended towards her. 'And to what do I owe this... pleasure?'

'Constance!' Narcissa visibly refrained from grasping Miss Hardbroom's folded arms. 'I'm so glad I found you. I – I didn't know where else to turn.'

Constance scrutinised the woman before her, styled in forties couture, her fascinator tilted, her eyes meticulously lined. She'd known Narcissa Malfoy longer than she cared to remember. Evidently, she hadn't changed. When all was well in Narcissa's world, she was haughty, condescending. When she wanted something, she paraded her emotions with a lack of dignity that Constance could not abide.

On waiting for a response which didn't come, Narcissa positioned herself opposite Miss Cackle's seat and waited for Constance to take her place in the Headmistress's chair. The deputy head scanned the desk for anything which should be stowed away from prying eyes. On seeing nothing other than a few half-finished fifth-year reports, she shoved them into a drawer and arched an eyebrow to her visitor.

'It has to be said, Narcissa, that I expected hell to freeze over before I saw you again.'

Narcissa blurted her words without further ado.

'I have something to ask of you, Constance.'

_What a surprise. _

'It's Draco – he is under orders from the Dark Lord to carry out a heinous deed and...' she trailed off as the tears bloomed in her eyes and she avoided Constance's unruffled gaze. 'And I can't _possibly_ let him do it: not even for – _Him_. Constance - if you were a mother, you'd ask the same, wouldn't you?'

Constance regarded the pleading eyes. As an intellectual, there wasn't a great deal that Constance Hardbroom could claim ignorance to; but motherhood was certainly an exception. Not only was she childless, but she'd never felt so much as a flicker of maternal instinct. Of course, she would defend her pupils until her dying breath; but motherly affection was something entirely different, something alien to her.

'You _know_ what he has to do, don't you, Constance? Don't pretend you know nothing of the Dark Lord's plan. You may have deserted your destiny decades ago but I _know_ you have your sources...'

'It was _never_ my destiny!' hissed Constance, glancing towards the door. 'You made your choices, Narcissa. Do not attempt to sway others because you now know they were misjudged.'

She heard the woman release a pitiful gasp.

'But he's my _son_, Constance – my only child!'

'Yes, he is precisely that – _your_ son, not mine. Do you honestly expect me to offer myself up for a child I barely know? A child who is the spawn of that... of that – _man_?'

Narcissa's deadpan eyes froze in the middle distance. It was not often that she would tolerate a word against her husband; but she knew that Constance had just cause to despise Lucius, and even as his wife she was not in a position to contradict her.

'If you will not oblige, then I will have to ask Snape –'

'_Oblige!_' Constance rose to her feet, outraged by the assumption and the exhumation of Severus's name. 'I am "_obliged_" to do _nothing_, Narcissa! There may have been a time when my loyalties were more easily influenced, but the only obligations I have now are to this school, and the staff and students within it.'

Silence lingered. Long, uncomfortable. Regrets on both sides.

'Such a waste!' Narcissa whispered eventually. A last resort.

'I beg your pardon?'

'You, Constance. You are wasted here. You were always one of us. And you still _can_ be! Come home, Constance – come home to the Death Eaters, where you belong.'

Constance kept her gaze on the woman before her, the crumbling dignity clinging on to the last. She had always known what would become of the Malfoys – had _warned_ Narcissa years ago. She turned to the window and the ominous plume of grey cloud loitering above the forest. Severus knew what was going to happen. His Reverse Pensieve had told him as much, even before Narcissa had resorted to Plan B. He was waiting for her, now, in Spinners End. _Dear Severus_, she thought, her last memory of her old friend flickering through her mind. How devoted he had been all these years to Lily, and how terrible to think what would become of him when the Dark Lord discovered his true motives... And for what? Despite her frequent bouts of isolation, Constance was reminded at times like these why she was fortunate to have avoided romantic consorts. Whilst Severus had been enslaved to unfulfilled love all his life...

But, like Narcissa, he had made his choice. And Constance had long since washed her hands of the Death Eaters and all who associated with them.

The door opened, widely, as though the entrant had not expected the room to be occupied. Amelia started on seeing the two women, pausing to eye Narcissa with the detached curiosity of a stranger.

'Everything all right, Constance?'

'Yes, Headmistress. Under usual circumstances I would of course exercise courtesy and introduce you; but Mrs Malfoy here tells me she has pressing business to attend to.'

Constance cast a meaningful look upon Narcissa. The defeated eyes fixed on hers. The tears were gone. The pupils were cold. The stare was soulless.

Narcissa tucked her clutch-bag into her forearm and rose, her heels clicking as she shouldered past Miss Cackle out of the room. Amelia pushed the door shut and waited for the sound of heels to abate.

'Anything I should know about?'

Constance had done the right thing. That she was sure of. Bit it did not mean she didn't acknowledge the seeping guilt that slowly intoxicated her conscience.

'No, Miss Cackle. An old acquaintance, that is all.'

x

_I've not read the last couple of Potter books, so much of this is based on what I've ascertained from friends and the net. I think the Pensive shows you past memories, so I sort of figured a Reverse Pensiive would show you the future..._

_Thanks for reading, and please review!_

_Also, for those of you interested in taking part in Blondie's challenege, please feel free to use the theme. _


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